<i><size=50>—Woe to this Hell, drenched in demon blood!</size></i>
The old Hell Train rumbles to life again. For the first time since angels hijacked it for the Sanctuary's use years ago, it's finally heading the right way—straight for Hell.
Is this your first time in the Hell Train's control room?
The scenery in Hell is magnificent. You should take advantage of this "homecoming" to enjoy the view.
"Death" retakes her seat, crosses her legs, and gazes out the window.
It's been a while since the Four Horsemen and the Bloodsworn Gray Raven pulled off that train heist. Now, you got to make good on your promise to "solve the Hell problem."
Below the train, the Acheron River lies hidden in a shroud of white mist.
Before the Laws of Life and Death went haywire, this river was the dividing line between the living and the dead.
Demons, after doing their time in Hell, could cross it to hit the shores of rebirth, getting another shot at life back in the mortal realm.
But ever since the Death Lord got... locked up, the Acheron River has been cut off and just sits there, completely still. Any soul that tumbles into it gets hit with endless torment radiating from the "stones" in the water.
Eventually, after an eternity of suffering, they too settle down and become new "stones."
That's correct.
Years back, humans and demons teamed up, rebelling against the Supreme Heaven and launching an all-out attack on the Sanctuary.
Whips crack, wheels rumble; horses leap, carriages charge. Soldiers rush forward; blades and spears glint. The dead are countless, and bodies pile high.
"Death's" eyes flutter shut, and the bloodbath from years ago plays out vividly before her.
The human realm is still reeling from that punishment: endless daylight. And Hell? Its laws of life and death are completely severed, with the Acheron River turned into nothing but stagnant water.
And as for us, the loyal followers who fought in that campaign, we got the raw end of the deal after the Death Lord fell. We were tossed into the stagnant Acheron, left to become the very "stones" within it.
Aside from the poor souls who stumble in, that river, which once nourished us, now runs thick with the remains of our own kind. Even the previous Demon Lord of Atlantis lies submerged there.
Her eyes snap open again.
"Home."
I don't know why, but that word just sounds utterly foreign to me. Maybe it's because across all my lifetimes in the human realm, I've never known such a thing.
I died on a battlefield in the human realm. That war was utterly ridiculous—all over a measly patch of alkaline soil where nothing would ever grow. Two noble Sovereigns bickered endlessly until they finally just sent in their troops.
I was just a greenhorn Sergeant, seventeen years old, when I chose to head to the front lines.
She shrugs.
So, as you can probably tell, I came to Hell.
Hell's actually way better than the human realm—at least it was back when the previous Sovereign of Atlantis was still around.
She sheltered demons who refused to go back to the human realm, set up shop in the Valley of Ash, kept a lid on demons that should never be let loose, and looked after the Acheron River.
She was kind, poised, had all those great qualities folks praise in the human realm—and she took me in.
She was crazy, a fool, and decided with the Death Lord to help humans betray the Sanctuary, jumping into the Battle against the Sanctuary 30 years ago, and killing the Cardinal Deity.
She once offered wandering souls a peaceful spot, yet she also punishes the souls who followed her by tossing them into the Acheron River, turning them into "stones."
Ultimately, she was also the one who handed over the Atlantis Sovereign position to me. I also took on the role of "Hell's Ferryman."
It all circles back to her. I don't see eye to eye with a lot of what she did, but I still consumed her finger bone and inherited everything.
If you can't talk about it easily, then don't talk at all. No one has the right to judge her.
Alright, we're nearing Atlantis.
Following her gaze downward, magnificent structures stand firm at the bottom of the Valley of Ash.
<i>How could a knight possibly stand up to enemies wielding the Sanctuary's power? A mermaid is at the center of the demon fortress, while Atlantis remains impenetrable, protected by angels.</i>
<i>The waters of Acheron act as both her moat and her walls. </i>
Haha, what a wimp! That fool has made Atlantis so timid and cowering.
She gazes down, surveying the battlefield with a smile that just radiates absolute confidence in her victory.
<i>The vengeance-seekers who arrived by train cross the Acheron River, reaching the Hell that lies beneath the Scorched Borderland.</i>
Gray Raven, you still have a chance to turn back.
Even though our covenant involves sorting out Hell's conflicts, I'm already happy with how we recently took back the train together. You don't have to get pulled into Hell's business—I'm sure I can handle this on my own.
Surely you've heard tales of demons flaying humans alive and tearing them limb from limb? What you're about to face could be hundreds—even thousands—of times more horrific than those legends.
I admire your courage, Bloodsworn.
You've already pulled off a train heist with the boss, and you still doubt his ability to take down angels?
In other words, I can totally back you up, but that doesn't include this dead bird.
Hey! I'm—
The raven flaps its wings in agitated protest as "Death" raises their spear, pointing it toward the center of the Valley of Ash.
Oh? Looks like my soldiers have been waiting for us all along.
The spear points toward a demon army in the Valley of Ash, their formation completely broken. They clearly took a beating in their last fight.
I told them to defend Atlantis... have they been holding out this whole time?
Ironically, to these supposedly irredeemable demons, the angels occupying their fortress are the real villains.
In the valleys below the Acheron River, demons have become warriors defending their homeland.
I get it. They've really stepped up.
See that leader carrying the battle standard?
<phonetic=Noctis>Cerberus</phonetic>, my most loyal subordinate, is the Gatekeeper of Valley of Ash.
A knight back from the dead? Inspiring, sure, but a bit cheesy, wouldn't you say?
Whatever. Cheesy or not, that's just the way the cookie crumbles in this world. Only the ones left standing get to pen the history.
Ready to jump into the fray? It's our time to join this conflict.
You yank open the train conductor's cabin door with a creak that speaks volumes about your resolve.
Fierce winds and thick fog whip through your hair as you stand there with blazing eyes, waiting for the knight to follow.
Always sticking their nose in other people's business, always playing the hero—classic human behavior, indeed.
Well, if that's the case, let's not waste another second.
"Death" extends her hand, a clear invitation, and pulls her companion, the Bloodsworn, as they leap from the train in unison.
Let's do this, Bloodsworn!
Deep in the Valley of Ash, a seasoned army is gearing up to unleash a fresh assault on the Demon Fortress.
The Loyal Vassal remains completely in the dark about the impending shift in events, simply carrying out his unvarying duty within the cycle of slaughter and Reincarnation.
If any of you don't have the guts to charge with me, then get out now!
I'll set you up with a fine horse that can carry you clear out of the Valley of Ash, and I'll fill your pockets with gold coins!
After all, I refuse to fight alongside people who are actually scared of the Sanctuary's lapdogs!
Blood for the Demon Fortress, skulls for the Death Lord!
For the supreme authority of Death—
A blood requiem, born from their collective roars, echoes across the Valley of Ash's skies.
KILL!
The scorching wind carries the stench of rotting corpses, the smell of death—the very air and sustenance of Hell itself.
The warriors stopped caring who wins a long time ago—the Sanctuary just wants to see rivers of blood.
On the other side of the battle line, a forgotten language shrieks horrifying words.
Why... even though I've reclaimed Atlantis, you still hound me to this day...? Everything should rightfully be mine...
Emissary... Let them die!
Burn to ashes!
A blinding bolt of lightning, wielded by the Mermaid, streaks across the battlefield. Simultaneously, the arcane gate bursts open, ripped apart by wolf claws.
From within, hideous white angels crawl out, resembling insect larvae swarming during a locust plague when seen from a distance.
Since you dare to crawl out, this is your day of reckoning!
Kill them all!
Meanwhile, you and "Death" reach the edge of the Valley of Ash. The silhouette of the demon fortress grows clearer, and blood-red clouds hang ominously over the distant ridgeline.
The spires of Atlantis point directly at the Acheron River in the firmament, poised as if to pierce the mortal realm.
Beneath Atlantis, the demon army clashes with the white torrent of angels, their forces completely entangled in a desperate struggle.
Warriors—plunder! Claim this battlefield as your own!
Above the din of iron and blood, a resounding cry pierces the sky, accompanied by the cawing of ravens.
?!
The demon general can't believe his ears. He looks up and watches as a fiery red figure crashes to the ground, then slowly rises, leaning on a Dual-Bladed Lance.
It's me! Demon Fortress units, follow my lead—let's smash through their lines!
Ha! Let's show these ugly freaks what we're made of!
Her powerful voice booms through the valley, heralding the coming of dawn.
"Death's" war cry also grabs the Angels' attention, as a hideous white Angel lunges toward the sound.
You, who just popped up in the Valley of Ash beside her, spring into action too.
Blood-infused bullets rip from the barrel, scattering into deadly fragments, each shot tearing the fleshy angels apart like paper.
The knight's Dual-Bladed Lance whirls through the air. Its burning blades, crafted from white-painted skin, form a brilliant banner amid the carnage.
Like an ancient deity, a messenger from when the Sanctuary first shaped heaven and earth.
The knight raises her weapon, pointing its blade toward the front lines. A resounding battle cry tears through the chaos, clearer than any demon's roar.
"Death" and the Bloodsworn have joined the battle! You've got backup now!
This demon fortress may stand for a thousand years, but the Sanctuary will never forget—
Beasts that dare to pick a fight with Hell will only find one fate—death with no grave to call their own!
Warriors! Brandish your spears, rip through their shields—
Charge toward the gates of Atlantis!
The Ferryman of the Acheron River, that undying Demon Lord now simply known as "Death".
She's back.
With banners of flame and piercing battle cries, she heralds the gospel of the Demon King
Aha! I thought you weren't planning on showing up!
But you haven't missed a thing! This welcome ceremony is quite the spectacle, don't you think?!
The ardent follower swings his iron arm, impaling the surrounding angels with a single, brutal strike.
It's my lady!
My lady has returned!
Kill, kill! Reclaim the demon fortress!
Her black iron armor carves a path through the pale white tide. With thunderous footsteps, demon warriors fall in behind their leader, who's just returned from the mortal realm.
"Death" always stays one step ahead, pushing toward the gates of the demon fortress.
Mount up! Stick close, Bloodsworn!
You swing into the saddle, practically tasting the thrill of horseshoes pulverizing angel corpses underfoot.
Blood for the Demon Fortress, skulls for the Death Lord!
Demons! Kill! KILL!
SLAUGHTER!
Jubilant roars, silenced for years, now crash like waves across mountains of corpses and oceans of blood.
The angels catch sight of the fiery figure leading the charge.
The Ferryman—?
Arghhh!
The Dual-Bladed Lance skewers the white figure with surgical precision. Before it can even catch a glimpse of the knight's face, the creature melts into a puddle of putrid filth.
Sanctuary lapdog, you don't get to utter my title.
The angelic army wails in agony as fear grips the outer defenses of the demon fortress.
Meanwhile, the emboldened demon warriors roar with triumph. They slaughter and sing in equal measure, their joy palpable as they press their advantage toward the tightly sealed gates.
Don't let your guard down. From what I gather about that fish...
She'll have no choice but to make her move now.
Just as "Death" finishes, a downpour of brimstone rains from above.
Across the sprawling, chaotic battlefield, a mysterious woman with a fish-like tail stands before the city gates.
...
She tilts her head slightly, letting the fiery rain pelt her face.
Witch Haida.
A storm of emotions—self-mockery, resentment, endurance, and hatred—erupts in "Death's" mind. Years of buried memories come flooding back.
She remembers the train ambush and the egg stolen from the Sanctuary.
She recalls countless midnight hours in Atlantis and all those who came before her, lost to this endless struggle.
She thinks of the countless twists of fate and all the bitter ends she's been forced to bring about with her own hands.
I'm home.
